Life on Repeat
by Sketcher1994
Summary: He sighed as he felt someone step closer, somehow already sure it was her. He wasn't ready. It couldn't be her already. It just wasn't fair. What had he done to deserve this? Had he annoyed some non-existent God? Then again, there had to be one, considering what he'd been through. If she didn't keep getting shoved in his face, he'd maybe finally be a half-decent guy.


**AN: FAIRY TAIL BELONGS TO HIRO MASHIMA!** (Apparently it's almost 90 days since I last typed that...? Almost 3 months? Sorry!)

 **Hey! So, if you follow me on Tumblr, you possibly seen that my boss was really nice and gave me six days off work** (4 of which are paid, due to them being 'holiday') **, so I planned to do some writing and sketching since I apparently have zero time to do either these days.** I don't intend to spend my week solely at my laptop or with a pencil/pen in my hand though. I also ordered some more Lego. And I plan to take my Granny out for lunch. And my new bed arrives on Friday, so I need to dismantle my tiny room to remove the single bed in order to get the flat-pack small single bed in and built, only to have to put my room back together. I also need to see my friends. I've seen one since Christmas. _That_ is how busy I've been. I've seen one person outside of my co-workers and family in over two weeks.

 **Anyway, I reckon I started typing this about 2pm today and I finished re-reading it** (to the point where I'm making myself be content with 2 re-reads instead of a minimum of 10) **about 10pm. It's now 10:30pm, so please, enjoy this little one-shot I wrote today, inspired by the ideas of what happens to souls after death in a book I read lately **(I read when I go to bed with the weird special screen thing that doesn't have the blue light that stimulates your brain - I got a Kindle for Christmas, by the way) **called ' _Angel of Death'_ by G.P. Burdon.**

* * *

He sighed as he felt someone step closer, somehow already sure it was her. He wasn't ready. It couldn't be her already. It just wasn't fair. What had he done to deserve this? Had he pissed off some non-existent God? Then again, there had to be one, hadn't there? Considering the shit he'd been through. If the bastard didn't keep shoving her in his face, he'd maybe finally be a half-decent guy.

Maybe.

"H-Hello?" The painfully familiar voice squeaked.

Fuck.

"Excuse me?" She tried again.

He just wasn't ready.

"Hi, I was ju-"

"Just wondering if we've met before." He snapped, rounding on her as he finished her sentence. How many times had she asked that now?

"Y-Yeah!" She jumped, snatching her hand back as he loomed over her. "Have we?" She mumbled, looking away from his sharp, crimson gaze.

"Fuck off." He grunted, turning back to the loose peppers and picking up a red one to study.

"Excuse me?" She demanded and he found himself easily conjuring up her cute expression of indignation.

"I told ya to fuck off." He snorted, gently squeezing the pepper. Still firm, good for stuffing. "Why are ya still standing behind me?" He inquired, placing the pepper into his basket.

"All I asked was if we'd met before and you start swearing at me. I'd like to know why." She puffed, apparently now more confident in her state of annoyance. Don't say she was back to being the over-confident mechanic. "Well?"

"I don't have to explain. I'm sick and tired of constantly explaining." He grunted, snatching up a net of onions.

"Do people often ask if they know you? Are you famous?" She frowned. He glanced back over his shoulder, smirking as she ran her large eyes over him speculatively.

"Not famous." He answered, dumping the net into the basket. He had to get away from her. He didn't give a shit if she decided to ask him this again in a few more years, he just wasn't ready _yet._

"So why do people keep asking if they know you?" She pressed, her brow furrowing slightly as she looked back up at him.

"Not 'people', _you._ " He sighed, walking away from her.

"I feel like I'd remember having the same conversation with you over and over again." She giggled, jogging after him. Why couldn't she just leave him alone?!

"I wish ya did." He grunted, increasing his pace.

"I know I don't – I don't have any memory issues and I keep a diary anyway." She shrugged, an annoyingly cheerful smile across her lips. Not an over-confident, smug mechanic then. "And I don't think I have a twin. I suppose it's possible, since I don't remember my parents or what happened to them." She mused, looking ahead of them at something in her mind. "Maybe I do have a twin with memory loss problems?!" She smiled brightly up at him. "If you do see her again, can you let me know?!"

"Ya don't have a twin. Ya've never had damn siblings for some reason." He grumbled, shaking his head. He just wanted her to go away! He wasn't ready for this shit! "Hell, ya've only once had parents that I can remember."

"What?" She frowned, stopping dead.

He kept walking.

"What's that supposed to mean?! Did you know my parents?!" She called, running after him as he tried to lose her in the crowd. He'd just have to dump his basket and come back later. He wasn't ready for another prison sentence – he was only twenty-one for crying out loud! "Wait!"

"Leave me the fuck alone!" He snarled, rounding on her as she snatched at his sleeve. "I don't need ya in my damn life! All ya do is make my damn life a living hell every fucking time!"

"I-"

"Just leave me alone," he mumbled, looking away from her hurt expression, "please?"

It just wasn't fair. Why did he have to keep going through this? What had he done to deserve this stupid fate? She kept appearing in front of him and he had to keep going through the same conversation that only varied slightly with every take. Yeah, he wasn't the greatest of guys, he'd done some shit. Hell, he'd done a lot of shit from what he could remember. Surely he couldn't have always been the bad guy? What had he done the first time to end up in this loop?

"How old are you?" She asked gently, tilting her head.

"Twenty-one. Why?" He frowned, meeting her curious gaze with a look of confusion.

"You sound like you've lived a few hundred years." She smiled, a spark of amusement playing in her hazel eyes. That was different. Maybe...? "Or at least a few lifetimes."

"I only remember five." He half-joked, watching her closely. She giggled, shaking her head at him. Maybe not. "Why are ya still talking to me, anyway?"

"I felt like I knew you from somewhere, then you were just downright rude," she began with a shrug, "but then you mentioned that I'd never had siblings and that I've only had parents once, and now you've just told me you remember five lives... So have you met me five times?" She asked bashfully, lowering her face away from him as her eyes flicked between him and her feet.

"More than." He snorted, glancing at the passersby. None of them seem to have noticed anything. "Each time, I remember having met ya four times, so I've met ya at least nine or ten times. This being number five for 'me'. The last 'me' met you for the fifth time too, so..." Why was he telling her this? Surely this was a bad idea? Hell, it wasn't as if she'd remember next time around.

"So what was I like?" She inquired, her eyes lighting up with her apparent insatiable curiosity.

"Ya want to know what the last four of ya were like?" He frowned, raising a triple studded eyebrow at her.

"And you!" She beamed, practically bouncing. "It's like something out of a book! You really remember your last four lives?! That's amazing! Wait, does that mean reincarnation is real?! Why can't I remember it?!"

"I wish ya would." He sighed, shaking his head. She was a bookworm. A fucking bookworm. Hell, he had been a damn journalist in a past life. Then again, that was the time when she'd been the over-confident mechanic. Shit. Maybe she was the 'bad guy' if he wasn't? What the fuck was wrong with the shitty God that runs this place?! He seriously had a fucked up sense of humour!

"I suppose that answers the question about why you swore at me... No wonder you don't want to talk to me 'again'." She mumbled, her gaze dropping shamefully.

"Don't get upset – it's not yer fault." He grumbled, looking away from her awkwardly. "It's kinda like that film, ya know the one where the guy keeps reliving the same day? Only mines is a new life in a different time period and I slowly regain memories of my four previous lives in flashes as I get older, but I keep running into ya every time. My dad stays the same." He offered, shrugging dismissively. As best as he could anyway.

"Groundhog Day?" She offered, a small smile creeping back onto her lips.

"Sounds about right." He grinned, offering her his hand for the first time in his memory. "Gajeel Redfox, nice to meet ya again, Levy...?"

"You know my name?!" She gasped, looking up at him in awe.

"Yer first name," he coughed, avoiding her cute gaze of amazement, "yer last name's always changing."

"McGarden." She blushed, her hand flashing up to gently shake his.

"Levy McGarden." He nodded, trying not to frown as he felt his face warm slightly. "Wanna get a coffee?"

"Sure!" She beamed, her grip suddenly seeming firmer. "I should maybe let you finish yo- Where's your basket?!" She gasped, looking around in horror.

"I was trying to escape ya ten minutes ago, remember?" He smirked, shaking his head at her as he released her hand and began to head towards the exit.

"Wait up!"

* * *

"So...do we always get coffee?" She began as she rigidly sat clutching her gingerbread latte.

"No, this is a first." He explained, before frowning. "Ya have thrown coffee on me before though." He added, watching her warily for a moment. "Don't do it again."

"I threw _coffee_ on you?! What did you do?! I would never do that!" She rushed, trapped between mortification and annoyance.

"Yer not always the 'good girl' and I'm not always the 'bad guy'. In fact, I was the good guy at one point and still ended up back at the beginning again." He grumbled, taking a sip of his black Americano. "Apparently letting ya die is a sin."

"I die?!" She exclaimed, her eyes wide as she suddenly shot bolt upright in her seat. He growled a warning at her as he glanced around at the others in the cafe that had snapped their attention to them. "Sorry... I die?" She asked again, quieter this time.

"Yeah, ya always die." He nodded, looking sharply away from her. He shouldn't have started this conversation. Of course he'd never had it before.

"Why?" She frowned, glancing around her as if she expected someone to jump out and murder her.

"Eh, well, two lives ago ya were this dodgy, over-confident, smug mechanic-"

"Me?!" She laughed, looking at him in a way that suggested she was waiting for him to say it was a joke.

"Yeah, _you._ Anyway, ya pissed off the wrong guy and I di- Well, he had ya killed." He finished, cutting himself off before he could say something he'd later regret. He didn't want to talk about the other ways she'd died.

"Where do you come into it? You obviously didn't want to talk to me and you've already admitted this is the fifth time you've met me?" She interrogated, leaning forward in her seat.

"Why don't ya think I'm crazy?" He snorted, slouching back in his chair.

"Because this successfully explains all your strange behaviour and statements." She shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. "Well? What were you like?"

"Me? I was a journalist. I was doing a story on the guy ya pissed off, who I'd trailed to yer garage a few days earlier, but I hadn't seen ya – just a couple of guys that worked for ya. The second ya seen me when I went back, ya decided ya knew me from somewhere. I deigned it, obviously, and tried to leave." He answered, staring into his coffee. That's all she needed to know.

"What do you do now?" She smiled, suddenly seeming curious about his current self again. Thank that stupid, irritating God – or Gods, for all he knew. "I'm an editor for a publishing company – they take stories from other languages and translate them into ours. I edit what the electronic translator spits out..."

"More interesting than mine – I work in a steel factory. It's at risk of being closed though." He frowned, running a hand through his black hair that hung down to his tailbone.

"So we've flipped. I used to work with metal and you with words, now I work with words and you with metal." She nodded almost to herself. "Does that usually happen?"

"Nope. I can't think of it having happened anyway. I was a fireman one time and you were a secretary? Then another time you were this cop and I was thug?" He offered with a shrug, still avoiding her gaze.

"So which of us was the 'bad guy' when you were the fireman and I was the secretary? Was I scamming my boss?" She hummed, biting her lip slightly as she looked searchingly at him.

"...I was also an arsonist." He replied, shifting slightly. "Only one of my fires killed someone?"

"Right... Who did you kill? Anyone you see when you repeat your life?" She frowned, tilting her head again. Shit. Fucking shit. Why had he added that part?! He'd tried to make light of his arson crimes and just admitted to murder! Shit! Shit! Why?! "Gajeel?"

"Eh, yeah... I- Ya don't need to know." He coughed, moving to take a very slow sip of his coffee.

"Someone _I_ know?" She gasped, her eyes going wide.

"How would I know who ya know?!" He snapped, glaring at her. "Shit." He hissed as realisation washed over her.

"Me...? I died in your fire...?" She mumbled, her jaw going slack as she stared at him. "Is- Is that why you keep- keep having to deal with me? Because you accidentally killed me?"

"I don't think that's quite right..." He muttered, wishing he'd just run from her the first chance he had gotten. He shouldn't have done this.

"What happened when I was the mechanic? You started to say something, but you cut yourself off?" She continued, her skin noticeably paler.

"I didn't kill ya that time – that was someone else!" He defended, glaring at her again as his jaw locked in indignation. It hadn't been his damn fault she'd gotten herself killed that time! Why had he had to pay for her death that time?!

" _That_ time?! How many times have you killed me?!" She exclaimed, standing up from her seat to glare back down at him. His eyes darted to her coffee.

"I don't...know...?" He offered, trying to smile at her apologetically.

"How were you planning to kill me this time?!" She snapped, the knuckles of her hand clutching her coffee turning white.

"I wasn't! That's why I told ya to fuck off! I never plan to kill ya in the first place, but ya never let up! I tried to escape ya 'cause I didn't want to kill ya and end up in prison again! I'm only twenty-one!" He returned, standing up in turn so that she couldn't just pour the coffee over all of him.

"And I'm only seventeen!" She snapped.

Silence.

They glanced around the cafe at the horrified patrons.

"Sorry, we were practising our lines and got a little carried away." Gajeel apologised to the staring faces, lowering his head slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck. He turned back to Levy and blinked as he found her almost bent in half in an apologetic bow. "Come on, let's go back to mine to practice for the show."

She nodded her head silently as she righted herself, hiding her face from him.

* * *

"Are you going to kill me now?" She mumbled sullenly, her tone one of acceptance rather than accusation.

"No." He grunted as he closed his front door behind them. "I'd say ya're alright, but ya weren't exactly 'not alright' in past lives... I'm sorry."

"No, I can understand why you didn't want to talk to me." She sniffed, plopping down onto the only clearly not used chair. He maybe should consider getting a third, or even a couch. Who was he kidding? If he didn't kill her in the next two months, someone else would. "What happened to me four lives ago?"

"The first 'you' that I remember? Ya wouldn't believe me." He snorted as he dropped down into his chair, the image flashing through his mind causing him to suck in a sharp breath.

Why had he been so pissy with _her_? Yeah, he remembered being irritated with having to deal with her again, but she'd been so fun! She hadn't liked when he'd turned her curiosity about him seeming familiar into something very different. He'd gotten pissed off enough to play with her in a way she did not want to be played with. She was being serious, so he'd decided to let his frustration out. Why couldn't he have just went 'no, we haven't met, but name is Gajeel'? Why?!

"Why? Was I a prostitute or something and you were the honest business man?" She giggled, causing him to splutter for a moment as he stared at her wide eyed. "Wait? Does that mean...Does tha-"

"Eh, no, no... Ya were a pole dancer though – ya should have seen the sleek muscles ya had." He coughed, refusing to look at her as his memories betrayed his need to keep calm. His expression darkened as he remembered what he had done to her. He shouldn't be allowed within one hundred miles of this poor girl. He was a disgusting waste of perfectly good air. No, that wasn't him. That was a past him. "I was just a night-time shelf stacker at a supermarket. It was my thirtieth and a couple of friends took me out for a drink. That's where we met...again."

"And your welcome was less than friendly today...was it any better then?" She inquired, biting her lip nervously.

"No." He admitted, shifting awkwardly in his chair. "I was probably worse... I think I've calmed down a bit since then."

"What happened?" She gulped, her arms subconsciously wrapping around her delicate body. He cursed under his breath. "I've already figured out you must have killed me."

"I'm sorry. I know it doesn't mean anything now, or to your present self...but every time I remember _that_ life... Ya shouldn't be sitting in my living room. I'm a disgusting monster." He growled, clenching his fists tight where they sat on the armrests. "I-"

"That wasn't you. That was a previous incarnation of you. It's unfair for you to be able to remember what he did." She soothed, her left hand suddenly lying on top of his tightly clenched right fist. He gaped at her for a moment, replaying her words. How the fuck could she say that?! After what he'd don-

"I _raped_ ya, midget! I raped and murdered ya!" He exclaimed, waiting for her to snatch her hand back.

She didn't.

"No, you didn't." She asserted, rubbing her thumb over his white knuckles. "He did, not you. Hey, can you really imagine me as a pole dancer?!"

"Gihe, I remember it, but I can't imagine the current _bookworm_ you as one." He snorted, chuckling as her cheeks puffed out. "The next you I remember was the police officer. Ya trailed me for two months after deciding ya recognised me and I lost my patience...and beat ya to death with my fists. I managed two months though?"

"Considering you were probably suffering from guilt from the previous life, I'm not surprised." She smiled, shaking her head.

"Yeah, I was forced to relive that a lot while I was dead. Actually, it's the only time I've ever known ya to be older than me – I couldn't think of a previous time at the time, but I think ya were at one point...I wanna say ya were a librarian at the time, but I don't think that's quite right?" He shrugged, reaching down the side of his chair and grabbing a can of beer. "Want one?"

"Em, sure...?" She hesitated, frowning slightly. Judging by her expression, she'd never had a beer be-

"Ya're seventeen. Ya've never had one before, have ya?" He grinned, showing her all his white teeth. "This could be fun – let's get ya drunk!"

"Drunk? No, I'm ok! I don't-"

"Yer ass is still growing by the way – let's feed it." He smirked, opening the can for her before handing it to her as she spluttered incoherently. "Yer ass has always ended up the same size and this is the youngest I've met ya and the smallest yer ass has been."

"What was the oldest?" She asked as she sat clearly pouting while blushing at the mere mention of her ass. If it wasn't for how much fun he was having at teasing her at that moment, he was pretty damn sure he'd be that same colour.

"Thirty-seven. I was twenty-eight." He mused, remembering her in her uniform.

"I was _nine_ years older?" She blushed, holding the can to her lips.

"Yeah, like I said, I spent a long time reliving my previous sins in what would be 'hell'. It's not exactly a place, I don't think. Yer soul just sort of relives yer sins over and over. Eventually ya're reborn." He explained, taking a drink of his beer. "I don't know why _you_ keep getting reborn though? It's not as if the world revolves around me."

"There has to be a reason." She shrugged, pulling a face as she took a tentative sip of her own beer. "What did happen with the mechanic me? She's next, right?"

"Yeah... As I was leaving – to get away from ya – a guy that I recognised as a thug who worked for the guy I'd been trailing turned up at yers. I wasn't stupid, I knew why he was there... I figured if yer destined to always die, why couldn't I let someone else do it for a change?" Gajeel frowned, remembering the guilt he'd felt as he'd left the short twenty-six year old mechanic on her own with the six foot wall of muscle.

"You feel like you could have saved me?" She mumbled, staring distantly at his can of beer.

"Yeah." He admitted, crushing the can in frustration. "Shit!" He exclaimed as beer exploded from the previously intact can. "Shit!" He cursed again, throwing the can into the bin across the room with one hand as he peeled his shirt from his chest with the other. "I'll be back in a minute." He hissed as she sat giggling at him uncontrollably.

He stormed out the room and into his bedroom, grabbing a random top before marching into the bathroom, still able to hear her giggles. He dumped the clean top on the heater and peeled the sodden shirt over his head before snatching up the black facecloth. He sighed, dropping the shirt in the washing basket. Turning on the tap, he listened carefully for the sounds of the front door opening. If she wanted to escape, this would be a perfect moment. He couldn't exactly chase after her like this.

He began wiping down his chest, frowning at the lack of movement in the other room. She wasn't going to run? After what he'd told her? Well, shit. This Levy should think he was some insane psychopath out to get her, but she wasn't going to run away? She was actually going to hang around and drink with him? A soft smile reflected back at him as he stared into the mirror above the sink. She wasn't going to run away. He dried himself off with the handtowel and moved to put the shirt on. Wet trousers clung to his thighs. Sighing, he pulled them off and began wiping his legs. If she came looking for him, she'd wonder what the fuck she'd just caught him doing. He slipped out the bathroom and back into the bedroom to quickly pull on a clean pair of trousers.

He stepped back into the living room.

"What about now?" Her voice whispered softly, barely audible.

"Eh?" He frowned, tugging the vest top over his head.

"Would you save me now?" She reiterated, her gaze coming up to watch him as he pulled his hair through the neck of his top.

"If I could, yeah?" He answered, unsure of where she was taking the conversation.

"And you have no intention of killing me?" She continued, running her eyes over his muscular form.

"No...?"

"Then maybe we can end this loop?" She smiled, the sight of which caused a small seed of warmth to grow inside him.

"What? _You_ gonna kill _me_?" He smirked, leaning on the back of her chair so that she had to turn fully in it to look back at him. A thought crossed his mind, causing his chest to tighten. "Or are ya saying ya're gonna keep out my way now that ya know 'who' I am?"

"How could you save me when someone eventually tries to kill me if I stay out your way?" She grinned back, a cheeky glint in her warm, hazel eyes.

"Oh, so ya want a bodyguard now, huh?" He snorted, standing back up to saunter back to his own chair. "What if I end up wanting to kill ya after all?"

"I'll just have to make sure that's never your strongest urge." She nodded confidently, her face impressively crimson.

"Gihe, ya can try if ya want, but I ain't promising anything." He grunted, trying to keep his expression smug as he felt his face burn a likely equally impressive shade.


End file.
